


The Right Decision

by EllieL



Category: Gone With the Wind
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-18
Updated: 2003-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While helping Scarlett escape from Atlanta, Rhett is knocked unconscious and brought back to Tara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Decision

Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief as Rhett guided the  
panicked horse out of the fiery depot. Nothing could be  
worse than the inferno they'd just been through. The horse  
seemed to agree, moving forward at a steady clip of his own  
volition, eager to put as much distance between the fire as  
possible. Rhett was silent as he navigated the back  
streets of Atlanta, trying to stay away from the chaos  
breaking out in the main areas of town.

Hazarding a glance behind her, she saw Wade curled up next  
to Prissy, both of whom appeared to be shocked into  
silence. Even Melly's baby had ceased to cry out from  
Prissy's arms. Scarlett felt a flash of sympathy for  
Melly, being bounced around in the back of this disgraceful  
excuse for a wagon so soon after giving birth. Mercifully,  
it appeared Melly had fainted, her face ashen and her eyes  
closed without evidence of pain. She turned away from  
them, reassured that everyone she was responsible for had  
made it safely thus far.

One hand remained on Rhett's capable arm, gaining  
reassurance from the strength she felt there. He appeared  
to have a light, steady grip on the reins, but the muscles  
she felt through the fabric of his shirt were like steel,  
strong and safe, able to protect her from the madness  
around them. Half of what they passed on the way to the  
road to Jonesboro she would never remember enough of to  
recount to anyone later, shell-shocked as she was.

Suddenly, she was jarred from her reverie as three men  
closed in on the wagon. Rhett pulled away from her, all  
his attention focused on keeping the horse moving forward  
and out of the grasp of the men. She reached over and  
pulled one of the guns out of his holster, eliciting a wry  
grin from him, even as his attention was focused on other  
matters. Even a crack of the whip against the horse's back  
couldn't keep it moving forward as two of the men grabbed  
its bridle, halting any forward motion.

Rhett handed the reins over to Scarlett as he moved  
forward, trying to move the men away. No words were  
exchanged in the silent power struggle, leaving Scarlett  
watching helplessly, doing her best to remain calm, knowing  
it would do no good to panic. Rhett's pistol was folded  
into the skirts gathered in her lap, close the where her  
hands held the reins, trying to pretend she was simply out  
for a Sunday drive, the type her father had taken her on  
when she was younger.

One of the men was flung away from the wagon's side by  
Rhett's brute strength, falling heavily onto the dusty clay  
road. Watching him fall, Rhett failed to notice that  
another man who had previously been holding the horse's  
left cheekpiece had moved away. Scarlett took note, trying  
to urge the horse forward, despite the hold on its right  
side, resulting in a slight turning of the wagon with no  
forward movement. As the wagon was coming to a halt,  
Scarlett, frustrated with her failure to make progress,  
failed to see the man who had appeared to be giving up come  
closer to Rhett, his fist raised above his head.

A sharp crack broke the silent struggle, and Scarlett saw a  
brick falling out of the man's hand and glancing off  
Rhett's head. In that moment she did panic, crying out  
enough to startle the horse forward and out of the  
remaining man's grasp even as she lunged forward to grab at  
Rhett's arm. With the assistance of the wagon's forward  
momentum, she was able to pull him back onto the bench next  
to her.

His eyes lolled in his head, focusing briefly on her face  
before falling closed. She tried to support his weight  
against her side while reining in the panicked horse. By  
some miracle, she held him next to her while slowing the  
horse to a trot, allowing it to move freely down the road  
ahead as she focused on Rhett. His weight was far to great  
for her to support on her own for very long.

"Damn him," she thought, "right when I need him the most."  
Yet she knew he needed her now, would be another of those  
she brought back to Tara seeking asylum from the madness  
into which her world had plunged. She kept an arm tight  
around his waist for nearly a mile before she slowed the  
horse, hoping she'd put enough distance between any  
pursuers.

"Rhett? Can you hear me at all?"

A low moan escaped his lips, but no other sign of awareness  
was present in his heavy, limp form.

"I'm going to lay you back here with Melly and Prissy, and  
let Wade be the little gentleman he is and help me drive  
this wagon on home." She spoke loudly enough for all to  
hear, as much to reassure herself as to reassure them.

Wade's frightened face lit up at her words, unsure of what  
she meant, but happy to have some recognition from his  
mother that did not seem instantly negative.

"Prissy, stop hiding back there like a goose and help me  
move Mister Rhett back there with Miss Melly. I can't do  
everything myself." Between the two of them, Rhett was  
placed unceremoniously on the hard wagon bed next to  
Melly's unconscious form.

Wade watched with wide eyes as his mother struggled,  
obviously worried not only about this man, but about all of  
them. When she finished lowering Rhett's form into the  
back, she pulled him up onto the bench with her, leaving  
Prissy to find space for herself and the baby.

"Would you like to hold the whip, Wade, while Mother  
drives?" Scarlett was exhausted. Normally without  
patience for the boy that would have been heightened in  
such a state, something told her to occupy his mind until  
he fell asleep. He eagerly took the buggy whip from her  
hand, barely tapping the horse on the back with it when she  
nodded to him. In very little time, he fell asleep against  
her side, leaving her to contemplate the day's events alone  
on the road.

She had no idea what she would do once they were home.  
Assuming there was a home, if Rhett's earlier words were to  
be believed. At that moment, she had no choice but to  
trust that Tara would be there waiting for her, just as her  
mother and Mammy's open arms would be. If only they could  
make it through this long night, everything would be just  
fine once they reached Tara. She had to keep believing, or  
the desolation she saw around her would drive her mad.

The heat of day scorched them, melting away any reserves of  
energy left. Creeks that would once have been sources of  
water along the wagon trace from Rough and Ready to Twelve  
Oaks were either muddied from thousands of soldiers  
tramping through them or dried up under the nearly  
unbearable heat. Scarlett was glad she'd brought a bonnet  
to protect her face from the glaring rays. The others in  
the wagon weren't so lucky, as Wade tried to find shelter  
in his mother's shadow, and Prissy did her best to cover  
the baby. There was no helping Melly or Rhett, however,  
whose faces Scarlett could see becoming redder as the day  
passed.

Never was Scarlett happier than when the heaving horse  
turned onto the road near Twelve Oaks. She hesitated,  
letting the horse stop and ease its labored breathing. The  
tree-lined drive obscured any view of the house. The  
desire to stop here in the twilight, leave Melly with her  
own kin before continuing to Tara, was strong. She knew  
they all needed to be off this damned wagon and find rest  
and refreshment somewhere. Twelve Oaks would be as good a  
spot as any, and John Wilkes would not refuse them his  
assistance.

The horse was reluctant to move forward again, and the  
light tap-tap-tap Wade gave it did little to motivate him.  
Slowly, they gained momentum and moved down the drive, in  
the black shadows of trees, the moon obscured by clouds.  
The end of the drive, where Scarlett had expected to see  
the massive white form of the house, was dark, and remained  
so even after the clouds parted and moonlight illuminated  
the spaces between tree branches.

She pulled up the horse and handed the reins over to Wade.  
She knew there was no danger of the boy needing to control  
the animal, who was content to reach down and eat the large  
clumps of weeds growing in the margins of the drive. Her  
body ached as she climbed out of the wagon, cautiously  
making her way towards the house. Almost unconsciously,  
her right hand came to rest on Rhett's pistol, tucked  
securely into her skirt.

As she approached what had been the porch, she came face to  
face with the devastation wrought by war. The portico,  
with its grand columns, stood, but the door and windows  
were gone, what whitewash that had not chipped off was  
charred with smoke. Stepping through the doorway, she  
choked back a sob. Most of the house was gone, collapsed  
under some impact or explosion. Rubble littered the  
parquet floor, small pieces working its way into her  
slippers as she picked her way through it. She was glad  
Melly was unconscious and unable to see the devastation  
wrought to the house, and happy no one was nearby to see  
the tears that pooled in her eyes and threatened to stream  
down her cheeks. With her blazing green eyes, she'd never  
been able hide the redness of tears, as the contrast only  
drew attention to them.

Rubble shifted near what once was the grand staircase. Her  
hand flew to the pistol as she looked for a place to hide.  
Relief flooded her when an emaciated cow stumbled across  
the floor, curious at the return of life to the desolation.  
She sighed, knowing there was no help for any of them here  
and not wanting to admit that she might find Tara in a very  
similar state.

Walking to the doorway with the cow curiously following  
behind her, she called out. "Prissy, come in here and help  
me tie up this cow. We can take her along with us."

The cow ambled slowly behind the wagon, content at the  
companionship of other living things. Wade had been  
enchanted by the animal, and Scarlett had reluctantly let  
him help tie it to the wagon. His request to sit at the  
back and pet it as they moved down the road had been  
denied, however, with his mother claiming she needed his  
help to drive the wagon. Only this was enough to satisfy  
his desire to be helpful and be loved. His young mind was  
unable to understand why his mother was suddenly being kind  
to him; even Scarlett herself would have been unable to  
explain her shifting behavior.

The short miles to Tara passed in silence, as Scarlett  
contemplated what she might find there. She had no idea  
where they would go if it was in the same state as Twelve  
Oaks; there were several other plantations around she knew  
would be willing to help them, but the Fontaines or the  
Tarletons would not be permanent solutions to their  
problem. The night provided no answers, as clouds rolled  
over the moon, keeping most of their journey in darkness,  
its silence broached only by the creaking of the wagon and  
the chirping of insects. The magnolia and cotton blossoms  
which filled the air with their perfumes in all the nights  
of Scarlett's childhood were not to be found in the air  
that night, replaced instead by the smells of dirt and  
musty decay.

As they crested the rise before the drive to Tara, Scarlett  
peered through the darkness, trying to see the house. The  
moon provided no help, as unbroken clouds blocked even  
starlight from aiding her. Eager to be home, even if it  
was no more, she took the whip from Wade's slumbering hand,  
cracking it across the horse's back. It stumbled, nearly  
falling to its knees, more exhausted than its passengers.  
Steadily, it recovered, moving ahead out of sheer desire to  
please, trying to trot on at a good clip. The cow  
straggled behind, doing its best to keep pace. A quiet  
moan escaped from Melly as they bounced down the drive, the  
first sound she'd made since Scarlett had tried to give her  
a bit of water that afternoon.

Before the wagon ground to a halt, Scarlett dropped the  
reins and leapt over the sideboard. She hit the ground  
running, ignoring the bits of stone and dirt tearing at the  
soles of her feet. The porch was still there, and there  
were faint reflections in windowpanes, though there were no  
lights from inside. The dark silence of the house,  
formerly so lively, left her standing still at the front  
door, almost afraid of what she would find when she  
knocked.

Her fears had not prepared her for the empty look in her  
father's eyes, looking at her but failing to recognize her.  
"Pa? It's me Pa, Katie Scarlett."

"Katie Scarlett? Why, what are you doing out of the house  
alone at this hour? Mrs. O'Hara must hear about this."

Before she could respond, Mammy came up behind Gerald,  
putting her hand on his arm. Scarlett stood, agape, unsure  
of how to react. What could have driven her father to such  
a state? As Gerald shuffled down the hall, Mammy stepped  
out to meet her, enfolding her in loving arms.

"Chile, I sho is glad you home. We been needin you here  
these last days, we sho'ly have." Her eyes, never missing  
a thing, looked past Scarlett's shoulder to the wagon,  
where Wade still sat on the seat like a statue as Prissy  
tried to climb down while holding the baby. "Wat you got  
all these folks with you and don't be helping them down an'  
up to da house? Where yo manners, I done raised you better  
than that."

"Oh." In her joy at returning, Scarlett had forgotten  
everything but the people inside the house. She turned to  
see the forlorn wagon with its sad occupants and beasts.  
"Well, Mammy, I brought Miss Melly back with me, and her  
newborn baby. I don't know what Prissy was doing, saying  
she knew anything about delivering a baby. I could have  
used your help." She bit her lip, hoping the flattery  
would spare Mammy's suspicion about Rhett's presence, but  
she knew it was to no avail. "And then there's Mister  
Butler, who was so kindly helping us evacuate when he was  
struck on the head. I felt obligated to take care of him,  
after all the help he was in providing a horse and wagon."

"Miss Scarlett, bringing a baby inta this house ain't the  
best thing ta be doing right now. Your sisters, they took  
sick with the typhoid. Your mother been nursing 'em night  
and day, not resting at all for herself. And when other  
folks, they come down wit it too, she be helping them just  
as much as she help her own girls. People like those no  
'count Slattery folks. She done take sick wit it herself.  
Miss Scarlett, last night, well, yo ma she done passed on  
last night."

For the first time she could remember, there were tears of  
sorrow in the old woman's eyes. Scarlett saw them  
springing up as she spoke, and her own face paled  
accordingly. What was she to do without Mother? How would  
everyone be taken care of? This must be why Pa seemed out  
of his mind. She sat down on the edge of the porch, coming  
down hard onto the brick without noticing. For several  
long moments she sat, silent, as Mammy looked down at her,  
the sick guests in the wagon forgotten.

"Well, Mammy, we'll just have to go on without her then.  
Have arrangements for the funeral been made?"

Mammy shook her head, stunned yet proud that one of the  
girls she loved as her own daughter faced adversity so  
resiliently. She had always known Scarlett was the  
strongest of the O'Hara girls, with a will like iron. This  
strength had never before been tested by anything of  
consequence, and to see her answer this challenge better  
than the petty battles of will she'd had as a child was  
heartening.

"Very well, I'll start planning tomorrow, and notifying  
what neighbors we have left, if you'll be so kind as to  
tell me who that might be. Now, we should see to getting  
these guests of mine into the house."

Scarlett rose slowly from the bricks, squaring her  
shoulders and moving determinedly ahead. She was not sure  
how to face this uncertain future as the de facto head of  
the family, but she would make do, and make her mother  
proud. There were more important things now than grief.  
That would come later, when there was time for such  
luxuries.

Red clay, moistened by sudden thunderstorms, adhered to the  
battered slippers covering her feet. For once in her life,  
Scarlett failed to notice or care about such details. Her  
mind was focused on the grave she was walking away from,  
entombing her mother next two three brothers she'd never  
known. Everyone else had made their way back to the house  
while Scarlett lingered, finally taking a few moments to  
mourn after two days of doing her best to right the chaos  
that had enveloped Tara following her mother's death.

Suellen and Careen were still too sick to get out of bed,  
where they remained under Mammy's able care. Scarlett had  
them both moved into Suellen's room, giving Careen's to  
Wade. Melly and baby Beau were given the extra bedroom,  
always reserved for visitors, to recover in without the  
risk of exposing either her or the baby to any lingering  
chances of typhoid. She'd pondered some time over what to  
do with Rhett. Eventually, she'd had Pork put him in her  
old room, moving a few things of her own into Ellen's  
office. She had helped nurse them all, spending more time  
with Rhett as no one else in the house had any ties to him  
at all, feeling less concern for his recovery than Melly or  
the O'Hara sisters.

Her father had been the most troubling of all. His world  
had disappeared with the loss of Ellen, leaving him  
confused and disoriented. Several times he had referred to  
her by her mother's name, and appeared not to have any  
memory of where he was. Typhoid and head injuries she  
could help; Gerald's wounds she did not know how to heal.  
Time, she hoped, would right things in his mind just as it  
would in the world.

Dilcey and Mammy were beginning to light a few candles  
around the house, sending points of light out to greet her  
as she came up the hill to the house. They'd had some luck  
in finding stray vegetables not eaten by the occupying  
Yankees, and both Mammy and Dilcey had become handy at  
creating meals with what they had. Scarlett was thankful  
for this, as she had no aptitude in the kitchen, and  
accepted whatever they provided her with.

"Mammy, what have you cooked up for me tonight?" Forced  
casualness radiated from her voice as she entered the  
dining room. Whatever she was given, she would eat  
gratefully. The best of what they could find to eat was  
given to the recovering, leaving most of her meals nothing  
more than broth.

"Since today such a sad one, I figgered we should do as  
best we could. We gots some bits of old ham and some  
potatoes."

Scarlett knew that bits of ham and some potatoes meant  
barely enough to taste, but it would do. "Fix me up two  
plates then, please. I'll have my dinner up with Mister  
Rhett. I'm sure he'd like some company." As he regained  
consciousness, his presence had been a godsend for her.  
While he was still not in any condition to be getting out  
of bed, he was a willing ear to her true thoughts and  
feelings, just as he'd always been.

Rhett had been granted the luxury of a candle, burning away  
the precious resource as he sat reading in bed. He lowered  
the tome as Scarlett stepped down into the room, dinner  
tray in hand. She gave the book a cursory glance, glad to  
know that something she'd found in the study had been  
sufficient to entertain him.

"Dinner is served, sir." The humor in her tone, to her  
surprise, didn't feel forced. It was easier to have a  
lighter outlook with Rhett around.

"Thank you very much, my dear Mrs. Hamilton." He had been  
restrained in his mocking of her since arriving at Tara.  
In the space of two brief days, Scarlett seemed to be  
transformed, and he hardly recognized the responsible,  
caring person who entered his room every day.

"I know it's not much. But it's the best we can do, for  
now. Hopefully, soon, I can try to talk to Pa, find some  
more money..." She trailed off, unsure why she was making  
excuses.

"Why don't you give yourself a break from all that for a  
few moments and join me for dinner. You look like you've  
had a hell of a day."

"Rhett! Don't say such things, Mammy would have you out of  
the house in a minute, sick or not, if she heard you talk  
like that!"

For the first time in days, laughter broke the melancholy  
that had been hanging over all of them. Joyful and deep,  
Rhett's laugh shed a ray of light into the morose  
household. It was infectious, and Scarlett felt a smile  
break across her face, giving way to her own laughter.

As she sat in the high-backed chair next to the bed, her  
laughter gave way suddenly to the tears she'd been holding  
back. Try as she might, she was unable to stop their flow.  
Burying her face in the coverlet at Rhett's side, she let  
them come, hoping he would not think her weak for them.  
Tenderly his hand came up to stroke her hair, letting her  
have the release she needed.

"Scarlett." Never before had she heard such genuine  
tenderness in his voice. His hand dropped down to her  
shoulder as she lifted her face from the coverlet, ashamed  
to meet his eyes. She was supposed to be taking care of  
him, not the other way around. "Come here."

Unsure of anything in this topsy-turvy world, she pushed  
what Mammy would think out of her mind as she let Rhett  
push his dinner tray out of the way and settle her at his  
side, one of his arms around her waist.

"Tell me what's going on in that head of yours, my pet."

Sniffling, she searched for an appropriate opening. "I  
wanted to come back here because...because it's always been  
the place I feel safe. My mother, she always took care of  
all of us. Everything was always all right when she was  
here. But, oh, but Rhett things aren't all right.  
Mother's...Mother's dead, and the security that went with  
her is gone." Pausing, she tried to get her sobs under  
control.

"Nothing else is right now, either. My sisters are both  
weak as children, Melly's still barely able to sit up in  
bed, Wade hasn't said a dozen words since we've gotten  
here, and then there's Pa. I don't know what's happened to  
him, its like the life has gone out of him. He's  
so...vacant. There have been times when he's thought I was  
Mother. Even you're sick in bed, and before I'd never even  
seen you with a hair out of place, let alone ill. And I  
just don't know how to make all of this better."

Rhett gave her a moment to come to terms with what she'd  
shared, needing the time to take it in himself. He was  
startled by the maturity and sincerity of her words, grief  
providing involuntary candor. "You seem to be doing a fine  
job of handling everything so far Scarlett. Most people  
would have been beyond what they could handle that night in  
Atlanta, let alone everything you've come back here to  
find. Give me another day or so, and I'll be up and around  
and can help you in whatever way you want."

Surprised at his words, she pulled away from him, searching  
his face for an absent mocking. His eyes were more open  
than she'd ever seen them before, and she took a few  
moments to study the sentiments there. Not all of them  
were clear to her, but genuine concern and compassion were  
plain to see. Something deeper, too, beneath these  
sentiments that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Satisfied, she returned the easy embrace he'd held her in.  
"Thank you. It means the world to me that you're willing  
to stay and help once you've recovered. You know you're  
under no obligation to do so." It was her turn to watch  
his expression, gage his reaction to the easy out she was  
giving him.

"I have no doubt in your ability to pull through all of  
this without my assistance. You're a very intelligent and  
resourceful woman with a good head on her shoulders. But I  
wouldn't dream of abandoning you, not when I can help."  
There was no hesitation in his voice, and it was all the  
reassurance Scarlett needed.

After a few quiet moments indulging herself in the safety  
of his embrace, she reluctantly shifted, moving back to the  
bedside chair. "If you're going to be of any help to me,  
you're going to have to eat. It's not much, but we've gone  
through a lot of trouble for it."

Dim, rosy light was breaking through the windows of Ellen's  
office, chasing away the night's shadows. Scarlett groaned  
and twisted on the couch, the vertebra in her back cracking  
as she tried to turn away from the light. Knowing all the  
work to be done, she refused to allow herself the  
indulgence of sleep, however. As she became more fully  
awake, she realized she was not alone in the office.

"Rhett! God's nightgown! What are you doing down here?"  
His very stillness startled her as he regarded her from a  
nearby chair, his face shadowed.

"I've spent too damn much time in bed this last week and I  
couldn't stay there another minute. There's water on the  
stove for coffee or tea, if we have any."

"We don't." She reached for a wrapper to cover herself,  
taking a moment to realize she had one dress, and had been  
sleeping in it. "I suppose we ought to go try and find  
something, though." The idea of breakfast, real breakfast,  
that Rhett had hinted at with coffee and tea was almost  
enough to set her stomach growling. In the past few  
months, she'd gotten so used to being hungry that a full  
meal would feel foreign to her now.

"Looking around, it doesn't look like there's much."

"There were a few potatoes left. We can cook them up for  
breakfast. Wade will like that, and I know Melly, Suellen  
and Careen can stomach those."

"What about you?"

"I don't matter. I make sure most of my food goes to them  
anyway. Especially to Wade."

Rhett gave her a peculiar look as he rose from the chair,  
the sharp angles of the dawn's light hiding his expression.  
This Scarlett was altogether different that the headstrong  
child he'd loved in Atlanta. The same spirit was there,  
but it was tempered and shaped by a sudden maturity. He'd  
known it was possible to grow up virtually overnight-his  
youth was a testament to the fact-but he had not pegged  
Scarlett for the type to change so easily. This woman was  
a pleasant surprise, an incarnation he was more drawn to  
than the previous.

"You never cease to surprise me, Scarlett."

The admiration in his voice was subtle, but her weary  
senses picked up on it. "I hope that's a compliment. So  
thank you. Now let's see about breakfast, so I can put you  
to work."

As the hot afternoon sun beat down on Tara, Scarlett paused  
in her efforts to salvage more of the garden. Her hands  
were dirty and raw, the cuticles stained red with clay.  
She could barely make out Rhett's form as he walked the  
fence line enclosing the horse and heifer. While she was  
thankful for the fresh milk, she really had no idea how to  
care for farm animals. The task had been delegated to  
Rhett, as he at least knew something about horses. Walking  
the fence had provided an opportunity for fresh air and  
exercise, something she knew he'd been craving while  
confined to the house. And, she reminded herself, it was  
something that needed done-it wouldn't do to have the  
animals getting loose.

Rhett's figure disappeared into the shadowed tree line, and  
she turned towards the house. Careen and Suellen were on  
the porch, making a feeble attempt at doing laundry. Wade  
played under their observation. She was grateful they were  
finally out of bed, but the battle of wills she'd had with  
Suellen that morning had been gargantuan, as the younger  
O'Hara had felt it her right to remain in bed another week.  
Scarlett was having none of it, knowing both her little  
sisters were well enough to help around the house. Great  
balls of fire, it wasn't like she was asking them to work  
in the fields like she and Prissy had been!

Suellen glared at her as Scarlett made her way to the water  
bucket. Too tired for another argument, Scarlett ignored  
the look and sat down next to Wade. Her son had seemed  
suspicious of the faint attentions she'd tried to provide  
him in the last two weeks, but was gradually beginning to  
trust her. He seemed to enjoy, she noted, the small tasks  
she assigned to him, as if he treasured being needed.

"Are you being a good boy, Wade?"

"Yes, Mother." He stopped chasing an ant with a twig and  
looked up at her, expectant.

Scarlett smiled and put her cleaner hand on his shoulder.  
"How would you like to help Mother for a little while  
before dinner?"

Eagerly, he nodded. "Yes, Mother, I would."

"Why don't you come back out here with me, and I'll show  
you how to dig for potatoes. Does that sound like fun?"

Her son jumped down from the porch to follow her the field,  
glad to be of help. Scarlett had to admit that he'd been a  
good child, quiet and obedient. Even now, he was more  
willing to help around Tara than her own sister. Digging  
in the dirt for potatoes was just the thing to entertain  
the child, as he would enjoy doing it even if there was no  
edible reward.

Returning from his walk around the makeshift pasture, Rhett  
paused to take in the sight before him. Scarlett was bent  
over in the garden, smudges of clay marring the maroon of  
her dress, thanking Wade for the small potatoes he was  
handing over to her. On the porch, one of her sisters-  
Careen, he thought-was calling to Wade, urging him to come  
clean up for dinner. The boy raced over the uneven terrain  
as fast as his little legs could carry him, twice tripping  
over the hardened ridges. As they disappeared into the  
house, Rhett made his way down to Scarlett, who remained  
working intently.

"Scarlett." His warm hand made contact with the small of  
her aching back, as she bent down over a hoe.

"Oh, Rhett, you startled me!"

"It looks like you found some good help today."

Puzzlement flickered over face as she tried to reconcile  
the battle of wills she'd undergone with the idea of 'good  
help.' "Well, Rhett, Wade was mighty helpful here in the  
garden, and I don't suppose you've done too badly."

Glad she was able to joke, Rhett smiled as he handed her  
the sack he'd been carrying tools in. "This might help  
with dinner."

Looking inside, Scarlett's frustration with the day's  
events boiled over. "I don't know where you get off!  
Bringing me a sack of flowers and weeds! Flowers are  
pretty, but I don't have much cause to be setting up  
bouquets-"

Rhett cut her off. "They're not for decorating, Scarlett.  
Everything in there is quite edible. I can't promise it  
will taste good, but it's better than nothing."

"Oh." Her jaw hung slack in surprise and shame at her  
outburst. "I'm sorry, Rhett, truly I am. I didn't mean to  
snap at you. It's just that everyone else has been so  
unwilling, and this just didn't..." She trailed off,  
gesturing to the bag's contents.

"I know. Most people wouldn't recognize these as anything  
other than weeds and twigs. But as it turns out, some of  
the knowledge gained in my less than illustrious past may  
prove helpful after all."

For an instant, his gaze met hers and his hand rested  
reassuringly on her shoulder. Scarlett felt, if just for  
that moment, that everything would be all right. Rhett was  
being so good to her, helping her through all this. These  
thoughts confused her, and Rhett broke the look, taking the  
bag from her hands.

"I'll take this to Mammy and Dilcey, and show them how to  
cook some of it up. Won't they be in for a shock when I  
show up in the kitchen!"

His tone was light, but Scarlett could tell he was trying  
to hide something with it. For the life of her, she  
couldn't figure out what. Perplexed at his behavior and  
the confusing sentiments it was creating in her, she stared  
after him.

Rhett continued to find unusual but edible plants, and even  
the occasional fish or rabbit. She has been taking the  
latest soup up to a bedridden Melanie when Scarlett paused  
to gaze out at the field, where Rhett was helping Careen,  
Suellen, and even little Wade to plant cotton. He had been  
nothing but helpful to her, providing assistance and a  
shoulder to cry on. Not once had he been mean to her since  
they arrived back at Tara, and for that Scarlett was  
grateful. Somehow, he always knew just what she needed  
from him, without her ever asking. Life was almost  
bearable thanks to him.

Hooves on the drive broke her reverie. No one she knew had  
a horse, and certainly no one who would be calling alone.  
Stealthily, she made her way to her-Rhett's, she corrected  
herself-bedroom, and found one of his pistols. From the  
doorway, she could see a man in tattered blue walking  
through the foyer. Moments later, he emerged from Ellen's  
office with her jewelry box, his dirty hands pawing through  
the remains. Unable to bear the sight, she made her  
presence known.

"Put that down right this instant." She was startled at  
how steady her voice sounded, even as her knees trembled.

"Well hello there missy. You have this big house all to  
yourself?" He kept the jewelry box in his hands as he  
mounted the stairs.

"I asked that you please put that down and kindly leave  
this property at once."

Ignoring her request, the solider climbed two steps further  
before she raised the pistol and fired. The blast and  
recoil drew a cry of alarm from Melly, who she turned to  
see her standing in the doorway with Charles' sword. Both  
looked down to see the man with a spreading pool of blood  
beneath him.

"Go back to bed, Melly, I'll take care of this."

Melly's pale face seemed to grow paler, and she disappeared  
back into the room, sword softly scraping behind her.

Trembling, Scarlett gripped the banister as she made her  
way down the stairs to the man. The back door opened as  
she reached the bottom, and Rhett entered, his eyes roving  
between the dead man and the pistol in Scarlett's hand.  
Walking to her side, one of his hands covered her white-  
knuckled hand, feeling its death-grip on the banister ease,  
while removing his pistol from the other. When her eyes  
finally met his, they were empty.

"I guess now I've done murder."

"This is hardly the typical murder, darling. You did the  
right thing."

"Do you really think so?" The tone was flat, but a  
childlike quality hid beneath its surface, pleading for his  
approval of her actions. Her gaze dropped, once more, to  
the blood spreading out over the wood floor.

Rhett tucked the pistol into his trousers and drew her off  
the stairs, into his embrace. "I shudder to think at what  
would have happened to you, or poor Mrs. Wilkes, if you  
hadn't had the presence of mind to find one of my pistols.  
That was very smart of you." He drew back slightly,  
gauging her. "I'm also pleasantly surprised at what a good  
shot you are!"

She straightened in his arms, her courage returning. "Oh,  
you are terrible! Rhett, I kill a man and all you can do  
is make jokes about my shooting ability!"

"Don't get so out of sorts, Scarlett. I mean it. Under  
pressure, most people are terrible shots. I'm impressed  
that you were able to shoot him, rather than the wall or  
yourself."

The admiration she saw in his eyes was genuine, and she  
took comfort in it. "What's done is done, I suppose. We  
can't just leave him here on the floor."

Pulling out of the embrace she was surprised to find  
herself still in, she looked down at the uniformed man.  
"Would it be terribly wrong if we went through his pockets,  
before we-we bury him, I suppose?"

"You really are an impressive woman, Scarlett. Perhaps not  
in the way your mother or Mammy wanted you to be, but  
impressive nevertheless. We certainly should. Then I'll  
take care of him while you clean up the mess."

Before touching the body, Scarlett pried the jewelry box  
out of his fingers, carefully replacing her mother's  
earrings. Rhett watched silently, awestruck by her  
residual innocence and her resilience.

News of the war's end was slow in coming to Tara. Melly  
had been overjoyed at the news, her pale face gaining some  
color at the prospect of Ashley's return. Scarlett stared  
at her over their meager meal, wondering why she wasn't as  
happy as Melly at the prospect of Ashley's return; she had  
to admit to herself she felt nothing but a casual hope he  
would come home unharmed. At a loss to explain the  
deviance from what she thought she should feel, she pushed  
thoughts of him out of her mind entirely. She looked up to  
see Rhett, at the other end of the table, eyeing her,  
awaiting her response to Melanie's reaction. That was  
something else she couldn't think about right now; Rhett  
had never looked at her in Atlanta the way he'd taken to  
doing lately, and she just couldn't understand it. She had  
no spare time in which to ponder such things.

After helping to clear the table and make sure Wade was  
settled into bed, Scarlett sought out Rhett. Searching  
everywhere through the house, she finally found him on the  
porch, hidden by the deep shadows of an evening with no  
moon. Without speaking, she sat down next to him on the  
cooling brick, close enough to touch him, but consciously  
not doing so.

For several moments they both sat in silence. "What's  
troubling you, Scarlett?"

"I was wondering whether, now that the war was over,  
whether you'd be staying on here. I know you were always  
traveling so much during the war, there must be obligations  
you have elsewhere."

"Nothing terribly pressing." He turned to face her, trying  
to read her face in the dim light. "Do you want me to go,  
with the prospect of your very dear Mr. Wilkes returning?"  
For the first time since they'd come to Tara, hardness  
crept back into his tone with her.

With much effort, she bit back a smart reply. She never  
got anywhere doing that, just got both of them madder, she  
was able to see now. "No, you're welcome to stay as long  
as you'd like. I just didn't want you to feel obligated to  
stay here. You don't owe me-don't owe any of us anything.

"And I don't..." She trailed off, taking a deep breath.  
"I've always been able to talk to you, Rhett, even if you  
do mock me something terrible for it. I don't know how I  
feel about Ashley anymore."

"Oh, and what has brought about this sudden change of  
sentiment?" There was the mocking she'd been expecting in  
his tone, but something else. Curiosity? No, it wasn't  
that simple, but it provided the encouragement she needed.

"I don't rightly know. Honestly, I hadn't thought about  
him much at all recently. There have been more important  
things, like trying to keep everyone from starving, to  
spend my time daydreaming. So when Melly brought it up at  
dinner, I felt guilty for not thinking of him, and then  
realizing I didn't feel much at all when I did again. I  
can't see him being much of a help around here, if he  
stays. You're much more helpful that he'd ever be, Rhett."

He laughed at her casual flattery, but it was a laugh of  
politeness, not his deep laugh of true amusement. "Its  
good to know my abilities are so highly esteemed in your  
mind, Scarlett." Pausing, he grew serious. "Feelings do  
change with time and changes in our worlds. We've all been  
through a rather life-altering few years, it wouldn't be  
shocking to inexplicably feel different about something or  
someone."

"You believe that?"

"I don't believe it, I know it. After being thrown out of  
Charleston and heading west, I realized quite a few of the  
truths I'd held so sacred in genteel society meant very  
little to the great wide world."

Never hearing much of his past, Scarlett kept silent,  
hoping he'd continue. After several seconds, she was  
surprised to find him silent as well, his gaze fixed on  
her.

"You never talk much about your past, Rhett."

"It's not a very pleasant topic, and certainly not one to  
be brought up in polite company."

"Oh." She furrowed her brow. "But I thought you once said  
I wasn't a lady. Couldn't you tell me about it?"

His deep laughter echoed against the brick of the porch.  
"Perhaps I will, one day. But I'm sure you'd rather talk  
about you. That subject always seems to interest you."

"No," she shook her head, "not tonight. My mind's too much  
of a mess right now to be a very nice subject of  
conversation, even with you."

Smiling white teeth flashed in the pale light of the new  
moon appearing over the trees. He rolled up one of his  
sleeves to the elbow and took her hand. His gentle grasp  
traced her index finger over a long, jagged scar on his  
forearm. She was startled at how intimate this felt, but  
had no desire to pull away, allowing herself to trust in  
the strength she could feel just beneath the skin.

"Would you like me to tell you about the mountain lion that  
gave me this scar then?"

Her green eyes glinted in the moonlight, and she could see  
his face settle into a genuine smile, with no hint of  
mocking as she nodded the affirmative. "I'd like nothing  
better."

Soldiers returning home from the war found Tara a welcome  
respite in their journey. Scarlett was never happier to  
have Rhett around than when the men began arriving, hungry  
and seeking shelter. She'd been initially distrustful, and  
worried about strangers eating her family into oblivion;  
no one else in the house had shared her sentiments, and  
welcomed the men with open arms and such food as they could  
scrape together. Rhett had listened to her complain, never  
judging her opinions the way everyone else seemed to do.  
Instead, he'd pointed out that she could ask for a bit of  
work from the men in return, giving her and the others a  
rest of their own from the hard labor of running Tara.

It seemed to her forever that these men passed through her  
land, eating what she offered them and doing a few menial  
tasks in return. Melly had grown increasingly nervous as  
Ashley failed to return, though she rarely gave voice to  
her fears, except at prayer time.

Several weeks after they'd seen the last of the soldiers,  
Scarlett had returned to work in the fields. Doing what  
she could to help Rhett mend the fences, she looked up from  
the rail she was holding when a cry went up from the front  
of the house. Barely looking at one another, they both  
started for the house, with Rhett slightly ahead. She  
could see the pistol she'd shot the Yankee with tucked into  
the back of his trousers, and she took some measure of  
reassurance in that.

Upon reaching the corner of the house, however, they found  
their worry unwarranted. Ashley stood embracing Melanie.  
He was dirty, the handsome gray of his uniform faded and  
stained, and had a mangled growth of beard. Scarlett came  
to a halt beside Rhett and stared up at Ashley, trying to  
get her breathing under control.

"Heavens, we were so sure something terrible was going on  
from the yelling up here! I'm glad to see it was for good  
reason this time. It's nice to see you home, Ashley."

"Scarlett, darling, hello." He stepped down to her level  
and kissed her offered cheek.

Strangely, the shivers of delight that would have once  
coursed through her at such a gesture were absent. Hoping  
the chaotic state of her mental processes wasn't evident to  
Ashley, she attempted to redirect his attention.

"I'm not sure if you remember, Ashley, but this is Mr.  
Rhett Butler. He was at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks the  
day the war started. Mr. Butler helped evacuate us from  
Atlanta, and has been helping out here at Tara."

A look of confusion passed over Ashley's face as he greeted  
Rhett, who was, Scarlett noted wryly, barely able to  
suppress an ironic grin. She was overcome with a sudden  
panic at what he would say.

"Mr. Wilkes, it's good to meet you again, and see you  
safely home. I've heard such wonderful things about you."

Scarlett could have killed him then, but not one else  
appeared to notice the anger in her eyes or the mocking in  
Rhett's voice.

"Mr. Butler, it's an honor to again make the acquaintance  
of a man who has been so helpful to both the Cause and my  
family."

Awkwardly, the men shook hands in a tentative truce. Even  
Melanie, normally blissfully oblivious to underlying social  
tensions, seemed aware of it.

"Ashley, you must come in and say hello to Beau, then clean  
up before dinner." Her tone, gentle and insistent, drew  
him easily back onto the porch and into Tara. Only a  
backwards glance and tip of his head acknowledged the  
presence of Scarlett and Rhett.

Both stood frozen for a long moment, Rhett eyeing her  
slightly puzzled expression. "Shall we go finish up that  
fence before dinner, while Mr. Wilkes is getting his family  
sorted out?"

"You're infuriating, Rhett, you know that? Can't you at  
least be civil to Ashley?" Without waiting for a response,  
she pivoted on her heel and stalked back towards the fence  
line they'd been working on. She could hear him following  
her, his steady stride crackling dead grass.

"Scarlett." He caught her elbow and spun her to face him.  
"I have no intention of being anything except 'civil' to  
your dear Mr. Wilkes. It just happens to unnerve me to see  
your mental wheels spinning two seconds after you see him  
on your doorstep."

Finally meeting his eyes, she saw something flashing in  
them that she wished, for the millionth time, that she  
understood. He always got that look whenever their  
discussions got terribly heated, or...she shook her head  
and returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. "Rhett, I  
was thinking as soon as I saw him, that's true. But not in  
the way you must think. You remember our conversation on  
the porch earlier this year?"

He nodded the affirmative as she continued. "Seeing him  
again, after not thinking about him, dredged up all those  
old confusions. When he kissed me hello, I feel like I  
should've felt something, and I didn't. Not anything more  
than when Charles kissed me, and I know I didn't...I  
mean..."

Rhett cut her flummoxed guilt short with a burst of  
laughter. "Never anything but honest, are you Scarlett?  
No, don't look so guilty, I admire you for saying it. What  
does this lead you to believe about your current feelings,  
then?"

Trying to follow the logical path he'd set before her, she  
hesitated slightly. "I suppose it means that I feel the  
same way about him as I did about Charles. That makes  
sense, doesn't it? But before I was so sure I was  
desperately in love with him."

"You've been desperately in love with the idea of him for a  
long time, haven't you?" He continued as she nodded, not  
needing her confirmation. "Both of you have changed in the  
last four years. Hell, everyone in the country's been  
changed by the last four years. You're not the same woman  
at twenty you were at sixteen, and a man who's been through  
a war isn't the same as a man who's just returned from the  
Grand Tour of Europe."

Pulling back, but not struggling with his hold on her arm,  
Scarlett looked up into his face. Even she could see it  
was waiting. Without knowing why, she knew her next words  
mattered a great deal to both of them, and she was  
determined to make them right. The odds of that, given  
their past verbal sparring matches, was slim, but she would  
try.

"A lot has happened to all of us." Tentatively, seeing a  
flicker of approval in his face, she persisted. "I don't  
think what I want in the end is much different from what I  
wanted at sixteen. I'd like to be happy, have a nice  
house, clothes, and good food on the table for my family.  
Respect. But now, now I think I have to get there  
differently than before."

Both stood in the silence of sunset, the red tones of Tara  
reflected in their faces. A hint of a smile played at  
Rhett's lips as Scarlett continued to ponder her place in  
the world.

"Before, I thought Ashley was the road to what I wanted.  
Now, I think he's even less skilled at dealing with all of  
this than either of us are."

Her voice was tenuous and nearly a whisper, but the words  
hung full in the silence. Scarlett was oblivious to the  
deeper revelation of her words, but Rhett's smile broke  
true across his face. It flashed fast enough for Scarlett  
to see and take comfort in it, but was quickly replaced by  
a façade of less intense cheer.

"Let's finish this fence up while you mull that over. It's  
quite a realization to come to terms with." His hand on  
the small of her back was warm, supportive as he moved her  
forwards to the fence line. "Then I'm sure Mammy will have  
found something delicious to feed us to mark Mr. Wilkes'  
return."

"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett, you know there's nothing  
delicious in that kitchen better than anyone, seeing how  
you stole it yourself."

Deep laughter pealed across the land, echoing on the  
hillsides. "I'm glad to see you're maintaining your sense  
of humor in a changing world as well, my darling. Now hand  
me than hammer and try to hold the rails still this time."

Scarlett could feel Rhett behind her on the verandah as the  
carriage bearing Jonas Wilkerson and that horrible Slattery  
girl pulled up. He closed the distance between them,  
resting one hand on the small of her back, providing silent  
support as he let her handle the matter.

"Emmie and I are looking right forward to coming to live  
here at Tara. It's such a shame you haven't paid your  
taxes yet," Wilkerson leered up at the two figures on the  
porch.

"You'll know no such pleasure, Mr. Wilkerson. Apparently  
you've been misinformed. I paid our taxes this winter."

"Not the reassessed taxes. I took the liberty of bringing  
you the statement on the balance you've neglected. I  
suggest you start packing your things."

"And I suggest that you get off this land. I've still got  
time to pay this, and would never give you the satisfaction  
of owning a piece of my home."

"You know you don't have the money to pay for it. We can  
work out a deal here and now for Tara. Emmie would be just  
thrilled."

"I'm sure she would be, she got enough assistance with your  
brats from here. Who's taken care of them after killing  
mother?"

Emmie shrank back, moving away from Scarlett's fuming form.  
Wilkerson turned to glance at her before returning his gaze  
to Scarlett. "You'll pay for that remark, Miss O'Hara."

Pivoting on his heel, he returned to the carriage with  
Emmie and they made their way down the drive. Scarlett  
turned away from them, needing to process this new burden  
on their nonexistent finances and hoping for Rhett's  
solace. Before she could open her mouth to speak, hooves  
pounded past them, throwing up red clods of earth.

"Pa! Pa, stop!"

Horse and rider passed in a dark blur, but his voice  
carried back and echoed off the brick. "I'll show you  
who's the master of Tara!"

The animal hurtled eagerly down the rough drive after the  
carriage. Scarlett found herself unable to turn away from  
the inevitable as Gerald pointed it towards the recently  
mended fence line. Unused to jumping and far from peak  
condition, the horse made a valiant effort but tangled its  
front legs on the top rail, flipping both horse and rider  
over onto the hard road.

Scarlett let the tax notice slip from her hand and float to  
the porch, forgotten, as she raced down the drive towards  
the now-broken fence. She could see the horse struggling  
to its feet, reins trailing on the ground and three-legged  
lame. As she came to a stop beside him, he dropped his  
head towards the still form of Gerald O'Hara, looking  
almost remorseful for what had happened.

Tears welled in Scarlett's eyes as she dropped to the  
ground at Gerald's side. Looking up, she saw Rhett and  
Pork making their way down from the house. No one spoke as  
they carried Gerald's body back to the house, the horse  
hobbling along at the end of the reins trailing from  
Scarlett's fingers.

In less than two years, Scarlett had lost both of her  
parents and assumed responsibility for the welfare of her  
entire family. That knowledge weighed heavily upon her as  
she sat in what, in her mind, was still her mother's  
office. That afternoon, her father had been placed to rest  
in the red earth next to his wife. She had barely been  
able to stand next to the grave; unlike her mother's  
funeral, she had returned to the house as soon as possible  
and cloistered herself in the office.

The sun had long since set, and the house had slowly  
quieted, and everyone had left her alone. She'd expected  
as much, really. Only one person in the house was brave  
enough to risk her temper, and he knew better than to  
pressure her. In the time since he'd returned to Tara with  
them, he'd been nothing but helpful to her, but had never  
pressured her. Rhett knew instinctively what she needed,  
and provided support and guidance without exerting any of  
the pressure he could've had over her.

Suddenly, she realized she was in need of his help again.  
Putting the emotional burden of her father's death aside,  
she tried to tease out how to find three hundred dollars to  
cover the taxes. That was now a much more pressing  
problem. Unsteadily, she rose from the couch and made her  
way to the door, intent on seeking Rhett's guidance on  
matters of finance. Certainly, she reasoned, he of all  
people would know how to get the money.

She halted as faint, vaguely out of key piano music reached  
her ears. There was a piano in the study, but no one had  
touched it since before the war. Slowly she cracked the  
office door and stepped into the hall, where the music was  
a bit more distinct. The tune was not something she  
recognized, but was certainly beautiful.

Sliding the door of the study open, a single candle on top  
of the piano illuminated the room. Somehow, she was not  
surprised to find Rhett silhouetted at the piano bench, his  
hands easily covering the yellowed keys. Not wanting to  
interrupt his playing, she silently slid the door closed  
behind her and made her way to the bench. Wordlessly, she  
sat down on his right, her gaze focused on his hands.

With a soft flourish, his hands came to rest on the keys,  
and Rhett looked at her expectantly. This would be on her  
terms, as all their conversations had been of late.

"That was beautiful. I'm sorry the piano is so out of  
tune." Her fingers traced over the ivory, the sadness in  
her voice disproportionate to that evoked by the music.

"Thank you. It's not so very out of tune, and we have  
greater worries right now."

"Yes, I do."

The silence hung, ponderous.

"Rhett, am I such a terrible person, that horrible things  
keep happening to me?"

"No, darling, not at all. You've done an amazing job of  
getting yourself and your family by in tough times."

"Then how am I going to take care of them this time? You  
know I haven't got three hundred dollars!"

"I could help you." His eyes locked onto hers, not letting  
her back down. Something burned there, finally visible to  
Scarlett. She knew in that moment that he wasn't jesting.  
Blushing, she dropped her eyes to her lap.

"You're under no obligations to us. And I don't have  
anything to give as collateral for the money, except Tara."  
Her eyes shot up. "Would you take the deed to Tara until I  
could pay you back? I would, you know I would."

"No, Scarlett."

She froze, unsure of the apparent about-face of sentiment.  
Abruptly, he reached over and took her hand.

"Scarlett, I won't take the deed to Tara from you. I'll  
pay the taxes, on one condition."

Pausing, she vacillated between cool confidence and  
absolute fear of what he would ask of her. "What?" When  
it finally escaped her lips, it was a whisper of fear at  
what demand he would place on her resources.

"Marry me."

"What?" Shock overtook her as she tried to process his two  
simple words.

"Marry me, Scarlett. I'll take care of all your worries.  
You've taken on more of a burden than any other individual,  
and dealt well with it. You deserve someone taking care of  
you. And I can, you and your family. I know in the last  
year or so, you've been realizing that there are feelings  
between us."

"I...Rhett, I don't know what to say."

"Say yes." His arm encircled her waist, it's warm weight  
comforting and supporting her.

She hesitated only a moment, as she realized that for once  
she could think of no objections to his proposition. He'd  
been exactly what she needed, and she had never met anyone  
else she felt as comfortable with. And something more,  
something she wasn't quite ready to label. "Yes."

Both his arms were around her and their lips were pressed  
together in an instant. She'd never known a kiss could  
feel like this, and was glad that she was already seated.  
Then, she knew that he would continue to treat her as he  
had these past years, with support and respect, and  
something even stronger.

"You're sure?" He pulled away, looking down into her  
shadowed eyes, seeking reassurance from her for once.

"Yes. I'm sure. I've never been so sure about anything."

In her own mind, she tentatively identified the feeling as  
love. Yet after her confusion over Ashley, she was  
reluctant to vocalize that sentiment.

For now, both were content in the knowledge that this was  
the right decision. After years of turmoil, the pieces of  
their lives were finally falling into place. She was  
amazed at the instant peace of mind she found at her  
answer, tipping her head up to catch Rhett's lips in  
another kiss.


End file.
